I remember her eyes. They say that the eyes are the windows of the soul. And she had a beautiful soul. On that last Sunday, I went to visit her knowing that the end was near. I did not want to even think about a world without her in it. She was not just my beloved Mother; she was my confidant, my best friend, my guide. She was everything to me. On my way to her house, I was mentally preparing myself for what I would find. Knowing that it would break my heart. But wild horses could not keep me from going to see her. I had been in constant communication with my sisters that lived closer to her, so I knew what to expect. But you can never really prepare for this kind of pain. When I finally got there and stepped into the room where she was, it was so shocking I made eye contact with her. All the pain and fear and desperation that she felt, was right there reflected in her beautiful green eyes. Those eyes that I had looked into so many other times. I loved her eyes. As a little kid, I remember thinking how unfair it was that I had not inherited her eye color. Instead I was stuck with just plain brown eyes. On that last day at her apartment, the last time that I would be able to gaze into her eyes, I felt utterly helpless. I was angry, and sad. I wanted to take away her suffering. To let her know that everything was going to be okay. Even though all I wanted to do was throw my arms around her and to beg her not to leave us. To be continued